Unexpected double 

For family duo

By Joe Norris – Published in the September 2026 issue of The Report

Years ago, I received an invitation to hunt red deer in the Brisbane valley, something that just doesn’t happen, so we excitedly made plans to go south. 

My daughter, Jessica, was to be my hunting partner for the trip, which made it extra special, as she had wanted to hunt deer for a long time, but we just couldn’t get the time off together to go or find somewhere to hunt. While she had hunted plenty of pigs with me and even used to, on occasion, come with me when I was commercially shooting roos for both skins and pet meat, she had yet to see a wild deer. Of course, if we saw a deer, it would be hers to shoot and I would just tag along. 

After the nine-hour drive south, we arrived and met the property owners. We had been prepared to camp somewhere and were very pleasantly surprised to find that they had a spare house on another part of the property that we could use and so we were able to stay relatively dry, as the weather was not co-operating with us. Showers and heavy dew were the order of the day, so to have a dry camp was very welcome. 

While we were talking to the property owners, they said that the deer were raiding their Lucerne paddocks during the night and retreating to the river or the hills during the day. They suggested that we try to intercept them at first light as they left the paddocks. With this in mind, we checked out how to get there and planned a stalk for the morning. 

Early the next morning, we were in place well before daylight and parked about a kilometre from the paddocks so that we wouldn’t spook any deer before daylight. As we waited for the dawn to start to break, we watched as a thick fog slowly crept across the lower country towards us in the dim pre-dawn light. There wasn’t really any choice, so we decided to try to get into position anyway in case the fog lifted enough for us to actually see a deer. Creeping slowly along a fenceline that separated the crop paddock from a ploughed one that boundaried the river, we made our way to the spot chosen the previous day. This fence provided the only real cover because of the tall green Panic Grass growing through the wire, making almost a wall of grass.  

The light was improving every second and the fog that looked to be impenetrable earlier was beginning to slowly lighten up and we found that we could make out dim shapes in the gloom. As we neared the spot that we had previously selected to wait for our shot, we started to see the unmistakable shapes of deer as they jumped over the fence we were waiting at and it appeared that we were too late. Jessica settled herself in beside a post so she had a rest and we continued to wait in case more appeared out of the paddock. All the time the light was improving, and the fog was becoming easier to see through. Just when I thought we had missed out, another group of deer came up to the fence and effortlessly jumped over into our side before making their way to the riverbank. 

There were about six deer in the group, with most being hinds or spikes but one was a young eight-point stag that was a very unusual colour. He was that pale that he looked almost blond, and I could see that Jessica was keen on trying to take him. I held my breath as she tried to get a steady rest on the post and I told her to only shoot if she was sure of her shot because we could always come back tomorrow. Jess struggled to get stable, as the fence didn’t allow her to get completely behind her rifle and so she had to shoot from an awkward angle. I jumped when the shot went off so didn’t see the impact of the 150gn bullet from her .308, but I didn’t hear the tell-tale thump that would indicate a hit. The deer all jumped the far fence into the river system and thick scrub, showing no signs of a hit. 

We walked over and carefully searched for any blood or hairs that would indicate a hit but found none. Jess was devastated and kept saying that he was ‘the one’ and she wanted to keep hunting for him. I convinced her to give them time to settle down while we went and had breakfast at the house. Once on the veranda of the house, we found that we could look out over the area we were hunting, but from the opposite side of the river, so we had a cup of tea and some bacon and eggs while overlooking the river flat. 

I had just gone to get another cup of tea when Jess called to me in an excited whisper and said “Dad, they are back, the deer are back”. I couldn’t believe it; the whole mob had emerged from the safety of the river scrub and were feeding out in the open on the tall grass of the river flats on our side of the river. Jessica went and got her rifle and because we could not see the deer from anywhere else but the elevated position of the house veranda, she decided to try to shoot the blond stag from there. The deer were more than 250 meters from us but by taking a rest on the BBQ on the veranda, she said she was comfortable and confident that she could make the shot. I knew she could shoot so I watched through my binoculars as she prepared to take the shot. The stag was feeding and when he turned broadside to us Jess’s Remington model 700 in .308 Win barked for the second time that morning, only this time there was the unmistakeable thump following the report of the rifle. I saw the stag jump and take a few rapid steps in a circle then collapse into the long grass out of sight. 

I left Jess to spot for me and taking my rifle I walked down to where the deer was, finding that he had been hit perfectly and was stone dead. Jess drove my ute down to us so all I had to do was gut the deer and, with her help, load him whole into my vehicle for the trip back to the shed for processing. I wanted to cape him out so I could mount her first stag for her. It was during the gutting process that I found out just how perfectly she had hit him, as his heart was destroyed by the 150gn Barnes projectile. 

That afternoon we went to the mountain side of the property and hunted the high country looking for a stag for me. Although we spent the entire time up high, we didn’t see another deer until we were walking back out; I spotted a brown stag walking along the flat ground, but something wasn’t right. After crouching down, we carefully looked this stag over and the reason something didn’t look right was obvious: the stag was a rusa – not a red as was expected in this area. I didn’t have permission to hunt a rusa, so I carefully took out my camera and took a photo of him, using the telephoto zoom, before heading back to the homestead to speak with the property owners. They were adamant that there were no rusa on the place and it wasn’t until they saw the image on my camera that they believed me. They said I was welcome to hunt him if I could, so the next morning I was back in the area I had seen him to try to do just that. 

Of course, it rained heavily while I was trying to find the stag but as this was an opportunity that was not likely to come again, I just kept hunting. I sent Jess back to the house in my car so she could dry off and when she was gone, I found my stag. 

The stag was feeding quietly along in roughly the same area I had seen him the day before and it wasn’t really a difficult shot; except I was so excited that I had the shakes. After taking aim several times and finding that I was shaking too bad to take a reliable shot, I decided to just watch him for a while until I had calmed down. I had a good look at him through my binos and found that he wasn’t just a normal rusa; he had extra points on both antlers as well as big heavy beams and almost bladed main points. His cape was ruined from fighting, so there were obviously some more rusa on the property near this area or he was fighting with the red stags, but I didn’t think that was likely. 

Eventually I had calmed down enough to hold my rifle steady, so I placed the crosshairs of my Leupold scope behind the shoulder of the stag when he turned almost broadside and gently pulled the trigger of my Ruger .243, sending a Barnes 80gn projectile on its way. The stag took a few steps and collapsed. It was only when I went to take some photos of my prize that I discovered that my camera was as soaked as I was and was inoperable. 

After gutting my stag, I went and got my ute and trusty offsider to help get him back to the shed where we could process him into venison for the return trip north. After spending the next day cutting up and freezing the meat in my Engels freezers, we packed up and cleaned the house before saying thank you to our hosts and leaving for the drive home. 

I finished up mounting Jess’s first stag. And as the cape on my rusa was ruined from fighting, I could only make a euro mount out of him but maybe one day I’ll manage to get another cape to be able to mount him as well. 

It really was an unusual trip, and I would never in a million years have guessed that we would take a rusa and a red stag on the same trip in the same area. It really was an ‘unexpected double’. 

Be safe and happy hunting.